


A World Of Pure Imagination

by FicNewtons



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: AU where Geralt has self esteem, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathtub Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Sitting, Fantasizing, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mind Reading, Mutual Masturbation, Pegging, Teasing, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FicNewtons/pseuds/FicNewtons
Summary: Geralt is feeling lonely in the bathtub, but only for a short while before Yennefer and her nosy mind-reading return early from business afar.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 208





	A World Of Pure Imagination

Geralt was just… tired.

For nearly two days, he had been on horseback, stopping only briefly to eat and nap, eager to return to the sprawling vineyards of Corvo Bianco from a particularly nasty contract afar. Though he’d sworn to himself to try and relax after receiving his estate, he couldn’t resist the allure of getting down and dirty with a griffin when an old friend sent word that they were in need of help. He had no particular reason to be in a hurry, simply wanting to bathe and sleep in his own bed again-- a luxury to which he’d only recently become accustomed, though he was slowly becoming less and less able to sleep anywhere else, a fact which was deeply troubling for someone whose occupation involved traveling a majority of the time.

When he arrived home, he hadn’t even the energy to say “hello,” simply dropping his swords and half his armor at Barnabas-Basil’s feet, an act which the Majordomo understood was quite uncharacteristic of Geralt, who was usually very personable and demanded very little, which spoke volumes to his level of exhaustion. Without needing prompting, he had a hot bath drawn for Geralt immediately. He wished that his motivations were purely helpful, simply wanting to let Geralt relax, but he would be ashamed to admit the real reason he thought to be so accommodating owed primarily to the gunk coating half of Geralt’s belongings in a thin layer, no doubt some sort of monstrous viscera from the horrid smell. Barnabas-Basil was especially careful shelving those things above the wash, picking them up one piece at a time by just the tips of his fingers, thankful that Geralt had gone straight to his room, allowing him the opportunity to be squeamish without needing to sav face. 

Once Geralt had finally dumped off the rest of his filthy armor, he finally began to feel some semblance of relief, though he still couldn’t help but squirm in his dirty underclothes. He was left only in a white shirt and pants, the only articles of his clothing to have been spared from the creature’s mess, though between his sweat trapped under layers of fabric and a few minor wounds of his own, it wasn’t all that relieving. He brought the fabric to his face, taking a cautious sniff. A grimace crossed his face as he let it go, recoiling ever so slightly. 

When Barnabas-Basil knocked on his door to tell him he’d drawn a bath in the guest room, Geralt didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly made his way upstairs, careful not to get too close to anyone on his way, though at present, there weren’t many people to avoid. Even through his daze, he noticed it right away. 

Something was missing. _Someone_ was missing. 

Unable to dwell on it, he could feel his legs getting heavy as he plodded restlessly up the stairs. Tension and exhaustion fought in his muscles, the only thing driving him forward being the allure of a piping hot bath to ease the journey’s ache. 

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he’d hardly given Barnabas-Basil a fraction of a moment to say, “is there anything else I can do for you?” before discarding the rest of his clothing at the foot of the tub, which Barnabas-Basil sheepishly picked up before scurrying back down the stairs. 

The water was bliss such that Geralt had never felt before. With one exhale, he breathed away all of the soreness, the strain, _everything_ that was weighing him down. He inhaled deeply and let himself sink up to his nose, completely entranced by the warmth, nearly forgetting after a few moments too long that he still had to breathe at some point.

Finally. He was _home._

Still, though, through the rapture of the bath, something felt off to him. He listened intently, perking up his ears. Steps back and forth across the main hall downstairs, heel-to-toe, soft enough to be a woman, but too metered to be anyone but Barnabas-Basil. Shuffling in the next room over. Short, shuffling steps, not more than four at a time as the balls of the feet dragged in soft slippers across the floor on its short, purposeful trips accompanied by an unmistakable scent that Geralt would have to have been dead to not smell from there. Marlene was cooking. He held still, listening a moment longer. Nothing. Geralt sighed.

Letting his head fall back against the rim of the tub, he started to remember.

 _Damn,_ he thought. _She told me…_

It felt like so long ago, but it was coming back to him now. She had mentioned it briefly before he’d left. Oxenfurt. He figured she had business there, but what sort he could only guess. He didn’t really care either way. All that was important to him was the fact that she would be gone for at least another few days. He felt a twinge in his chest as he let the disappointment settle in around him, feeling suddenly much more alone. He had honestly forgotten that she would be gone upon his return and as much as he hated feeling soft, he was looking forward to seeing her again after being away. They’d spent so much of their lives apart from each other, and he was hoping that once they both lived in Corvo Bianco together, that would be the end of their separation.

He groaned, crossing his arms over his chest as he sank down in the tub a bit more. 

_I’m a grown man, I can be on my own for a while,_ he thought, not entirely convinced. 

And that was true, he could. But by the gods, he didn’t really want to. When he was on the road, being alone felt natural, save for the times he was graced with Dandelion’s presence (which he didn’t always _completely_ hate, nuisance though Dandelion could be). But for some reason, when he was home, it felt completely different. Bizarre, even. It just felt wrong. The house was too big for just himself. He had BB and Marlene, of course, but even still, without her it felt empty.

Not that he was a complete sap, but Geralt wasn’t an idiot, and he knew that he preferred to be with her than be alone, though he did hate to admit it at times. He had just wanted to come home to whatever sarcastic comment or exasperated expression she had to offer him, or maybe, if he was incredibly lucky, some quality time spent by the fire drinking wine and eating whatever immaculate delicacy Marlene was preparing in the kitchen, her dark hair glowing in the face of the embers, warm light glinting off her pendant. And that perfume…

What a dream, that would be. But for now, it was just Geralt, alone in his bathtub, surrounded by the scent of rotting entrails and sweat, wishing she was here. He finally sat up, willing himself back to reality, grabbing the soap with a sign before setting in on the grime. He was vicious, unrelenting, scrubbing his skin raw until there was no trace of anything monster on him, barely leaving a trace of anything Geralt. For all he knew, he could have been in there for an hour, long as it took to get the gruesome feeling off him, but by the end, he was feeling like a new man. His skin nearly glowed (most likely because of how raw he’d scrubbed himself, but Geralt hadn’t the dermatological inclination to know the difference between “glowing” and “irritated,” especially since mutations made the pain and irritation a normal person would have felt nearly imperceptible to him). Finally, after his arduous contract and a lengthy trip home, he finally felt at peace. 

He sat up in the tub a bit, his fingers maneuvering into the sign of Igni beneath the water, carefully generating just enough heat to keep the water a blissful temperature. When he was satisfied, Geralt pushed his wet hair from his forehead, loosening the string holding back his hair, letting it flood forward in its achromic glory. He tipped his head back and poured small bowl after small bowl or warm, soapy water over his head, it’s warmth cascading down like gentle fingers stroking his hair down his neck. He gave it all a soft lather, working the soap deeply into his scalp, enjoying the massage. 

_Would be even better if Yen were doing it,_ he thought. 

He let his arm drop lazily back into the tub, resting his hand on his thigh, his fingers mindlessly toying with the hairs there. He dropped the bowl back outside the tub, sliding back down into the water, throwing his leg over the side. His eyes wandered to the window, bright light streaming through while clouds passed lazily over the blue sky there. He studied them, their shapes, their colors, passively focusing on every aspect of them. Willfully distracting himself as he let his hand wander a little farther up his thigh. He’d never stopped to realize how strong his legs were, but the thought had crossed his mind for just a second, almost before he could realize it, as he noticed how firm they felt under his fingers.

_Is that what she likes about me?_

He guessed he understood the allure. He’d noticed strong legs on people many times, though he had never really stopped to consider his own, though it only made sense that she’d find that appealing. He chuckled with the realization, but felt discontent creep into his heart again as he found his mind doggedly drawn back to her. How he’d love her to be here… 

He let his hand creep a bit further up his leg, drawing his fingers lightly across the line between his thigh and hip, finding the skin very sensitive there, almost ticklish. A rush of adrenaline billowed through his chest, its tendrils reaching down toward his stomach. He smiled. Yen loved to torment him this way, though more often than not the touch didn’t last long. Geralt realized that even now it may not last long as he brushed his fingers across his groin, treading just above an incipient erection. He let out a contented sigh, his hand wrapping around the base, giving himself a gentle squeeze, closing his eyes. He felt a blush looming on his chest, his normally slow and steady heartbeat gaining speed as he took deeper and deeper breaths. He couldn’t help now but think of Yen, imagining her hands on him instead of his own as he began slowly moving his hand up and down his cock, growing harder and harder with each stroke. He pictured her velvet violet eyes surveying him, the way his body moves, as she touched him. His chest rising and falling with each lewd breath, the small, almost imperceptible twitches of his stomach muscles when breaths catch in his throat, the deep, wanting grinding of his hips into her hand as she stroked him deliberately, knowing exactly how to make him want more.

He was so lost in the fantasy that he’d failed to hear the resounding, deliberate footfalls of heeled boots on the stone outside the house, nor the opening of the front door, nor the hesitant, searching steps back and forth across the foyer, and especially not the quietly echoed sound of those same boots climbing the soft, rug-covered stairs. Not even the scent of lilac and gooseberries.

He was thinking about other things, something which quickly became apparent to a surprisingly early Yennefer as she glimpsed him stroke himself in the tub. A hundred thoughts flew through her head instantly, trying desperately to decipher them while deciding the next best course of action. She couldn’t help but be transfixed, though, all thoughts being pushed aside by the sweet allure of the movement of his hand in the tub. She closed her eyes for a moment before quickly blinking them back open.

 _What am I doing?_ She thought. _I can’t just… I shouldn’t…_

She froze for another moment before decidedly closing her eyes again, focusing on Geralt, his thoughts, conjuring up the images in his head in her own mind. She couldn’t help but smile, the filth of it all flattering her to her deepest core. She saw visions of herself kneeling behind Geralt in the bath, lovingly kissing his shoulder as he lay there, caressing her arm as she reached down to touch him, her hand working him up and down with a sweet languidness. She was taking her time, almost teasing him, and he couldn’t even stifle a groan, candidly exhaling his excitement.

As she watched the scene play out in her mind, she found her own hands drawn to herself, resting them on her breasts, caressing herself lightly, a sweet tingle passing through her body as her nipples stiffened under the fabric, becoming more and more sensitive to the touch with each pass of her palms. She was entranced, watching as Geralt threw his head back in the tub, shivering under her grip, just as she shivered under her own. 

Her hand gravitated downwards, making quick work of the fastenings around her waist, loosening them just enough to slip her fingers under her tight black pants. She inhaled sharply as her cold fingers gently skating across the smooth, velvet skin between her hips, traipsing further and further downward until she found herself sliding her finger gently up and down between her legs, already dreadfully excited by the very idea that Geralt thought of her this way while she was away. Electricity charged through her, her skin tingling from head to foot as she slowly glided her slick finger in small, loving circles over her clit, each touch creating pools of warm, lustful heat in her stomach. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she heard Geralt let out a small, whining moan that he’d almost been able to stifle. Almost.

Geralt laid in the tub, stroking himself with even more fervor, heat overcoming his blushing cheeks. He was so hard he could barely stand it. He found his body strangely appealing, never having stopped to appreciate his own size and thickness before, but now, as he stroked himself for the first time in a while, he realized that it was… substantial. It felt good to touch himself. He understood why Yen liked it so much. He let his free hand wander between his own legs, taking hold of his testicles, massaging them gently, causing him again to groan quietly, arching his back under his grip. 

_Gods what I’d give to have her right now…_

His thought made Yen’s breath catch in her throat, threatening to make noises the witcher would certainly hear, giving her away completely. She quickly controlled it, though her heart did beat considerably louder, which, had he not already been so preoccupied, would absolutely have alerted Geralt to her presence. But for now she was safe, cautiously continuing to tease herself, slowly massaging her way downward. Her knees trembled as she slipped a finger inside, then another. 

She could hardly stand to do it herself when Geralt, who was quite good at this, was so close by and absolutely ready to ravage her, but she couldn’t resist watching him and his thoughts for just a few minutes longer. 

She focused again on Geralt’s fantasy, in which she’d now moved to the side of the tub. Geralt ran his fingers through her soft, raven hair as she kissed him deeply, holding the sides of the tub firmly as she stepped one foot in, then the other, planting her feet firmly on either side of Geralt’s hips. He smiled under her kiss, a feeling which Yen had always loved, as she got down to her knees and straddled him. His head fell back as she lowered herself down onto him, her hands moving to his chest to steady herself as she started moving, slowly at first, but quickly increasing in vigor.

Geralt himself was getting close, his hand nearly shaking as he stroked himself quickly. He could hardly keep up the image in his mind as his brain became clouded by the warm, fuzzy haze of climax building up inside him. Adrenaline shot through him, his legs tensing, heart absolutely pounding as he came hard, a small groan escaping his throat as his hand finally slowed, the waves inside him subsiding.

His head shot up as Yennefer’s footsteps approached behind him. Nearly as quickly as she had thrown it, Geralt caught the towel that had been hanging over the railing near the stairs. He tried to conceal himself, but it quickly became apparent that that wasn’t necessary when Yen quickly tangled her fingers in his wet hair, turning his face upward so she could steal a deep, loving kiss.

“I thought you were in Oxenfurt,” he said as they parted.

“I was. Things went more smoothly than I’d expected,” she said, giving him a slight tug on his hair, urging him upward, kissing him again as he stood.

“I know you want me to mount you in there like an animal,” she nearly sneered, “but if we’re being honest, that water smells horrid.”

Geralt grumbled inquisitively. He stepped out of the tub, carelessly wiping down his body with the towel, a smile perking up the corners of his mouth. He’d missed Yen, even in her endearing abrasiveness. And her nosy telepathy.

He put his hands on her hips, water still clinging to him, droplets falling from his hair, landing right on Yen as he closed the distance between them, standing only inches from her. 

“You know that reading someone’s mind without their knowledge is generally considered rude, right?” 

She chuckled, her violet eyes searching his collarbones where water still glistened, her hands exploring his chest. “That rule of etiquette doesn’t really apply here.”

“Why’s that?”

Her fingers dragged lightly down his chest, tickling his stomach, before gently traipsing across the skin right near his still-hardened shaft, careful not to get too close prematurely.

“Because _no_ etiquette applies here,” she purred. “And besides, I’m making good use of it, aren’t I?”

He gasped slightly as her fingers crossed dangerously close, their proximity riveting him to his core. Yen knew what drove him crazy, and patience was definitely not his strong suit. He shuddered as her fingers trailed down, grazing the base of his shaft. His heartbeat picked up, almost to the speed of a normal person, a speed that to him felt as if it were a thousand beats per minute, blood rushing in his temples. He had excellent control over his body when he needed to, but at the moment he found himself a bit more unruly. 

Their eyes met; hers under a raised, devious eyebrow, and his under furrowed brows, knitted together ever so slightly with anticipation. He gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply as she delicately drew her fingers up the length of his cock, his knees struggling not to shake. He let her toy with him, ghosting her fingers over the tip. His eyes closed, revelling in her tease. 

She watched his face, noticing every micro movement of every muscle, his lips, his cheeks, his eyebrows. Tiny ticks to let her know just how badly he wanted it. He’d already had the fantasy version, but his gut was aching for the real thing. 

For what seemed like forever, she just played with him. She let her hands wander everywhere, down his strong thighs, across his sharp hips, his firm ass. Everywhere except the one place he wanted it the most. Where he _needed_ it the most.

He thought he might explode, he could hardly take it. Before his brain even knew what he was doing, he snatched her wrist, perhaps too tightly. He took a step toward her, carefully but quickly moving her back toward the bed, absolutely ravenous. Just as he moved to lay her down, she roughly twisted out of his grip, shoving him hard to the bed, roughly pinning his own wrists over his head.

She grinned devilishly, straddling him, holding his arms tightly. Geralt watched her carefully, fruitlessly trying to anticipate her moves. He squirmed under her, shivering as her breath ghosted across his skin, broken up by tiny kisses from shoulder to shoulder. When she let go of his arms for just a moment to better position herself atop him, he reached to caress her, only to be met with a fierce slap to the face that elicited an embarrassingly loud, whining groan from his throat and a strangely intense rush of blood to his cock. Yen replaced his arms firmly above his head, not in the least bit oblivious to the latter fact. She tenderly drew her palm over his bright red cheek; he recoiled a bit, sucking in air, but his eyes never left hers, and they were zealous.

“Don’t think you can just do whatever you want without my permission, Geralt. This isn’t _your_ fantasy anymore.” 

He shuddered as she dragged her tongue up his chest.

“It’s _mine_.”

Geralt simpered beneath her, his head rushing, his heart racing, aching with need. He laced his fingers together, situating his arms more comfortably, relaxing and relinquishing control. He wasn’t a patient person, but he knew that if he protested, she’d only make him wait longer. She loved to watch him squirm and he knew it. Part of him felt like it was going to explode if he couldn’t get his satisfaction right then and there. The other part of him loved it. So helpless--at the mercy of her fingertips, her lips, her tongue. His heartbeat quickened at just the thought of it. He knew that all he could do was to wait and play along, though that’s not to say that he wouldn’t try to get where he wanted to go quicker than Yen wanted him to get there. 

He gyrated his hips subtly under her, trying desperately to get her to touch him even accidentally. He couldn’t care less how he did it. He _needed_ her to touch him. _Now_.

Yen felt him struggling beneath her, able to hear in his mind how badly he needed it. She smiled. She could _feel_ the desperation in his body and his thoughts and it sent shocks through her. She felt herself getting wet again, rubbing herself against his firm stomach, trembling, almost shocked at the sensation. She let her head fall back a bit, delighting in the mess she was making on his clean skin. Geralt could feel it, his cheeks burning as a wave of embarrassment welled within him at the amount of enjoyment he was getting from it. 

Yen watched as Geralt arched beneath her, urging his body even deeper into her movement, absolutely delighting in it, drawing it out of her, covering himself in her, desperate for more. 

“ _Mmm,_ I think I’ve made a bit of a mess, Geralt,” she purred,. “Why don’t you help me clean it up?”

She stood momentarily, undoing her pants in an intricate ritual that always frustrated Geralt in the heat of the moment. His hands, dextrous as they were, could never quite figure out the motions. To watch her do it now, though, was pure, agonizing bliss. No sooner than she had discarded her pants did she start on her top, taking her time with every clasp and tie, watching Geralt’s shuddering chest rise and fall much more quickly than usual as lust crept up his body while she undressed before him. 

Electricity shot through him as she climbed atop him again, closer and closer, his hands hovering in the air, waiting to take hold of her as she positioned herself over his face. He clasped her hips tightly in his hands and breathed her in.

He could feel the warmth radiating off her and it drove him wild, but as he made an attempt to move in on her, she quickly pulled away, grinning cruelly. He let his head fall back against the bed after only a few attempts to reach her, disappointed.

“So eager, Geralt. Is there something you want?”

Geralt growled disdainfully. She moved her hand between her legs, massaging herself deeply over her thin, black panties, making a show of it as Geralt watched helplessly. He felt himself getting even harder, fighting the urge to touch himself as she put on her heartless performance, her smile growing wider and wider the more restless he became.

_Gods, I just want a taste…_

Yen chuckled. “Maybe you should just tell me, then, and I’ll let you.”

“I told you it’s rude to stick your nose into people’s minds,” he rumbled.

“Tell me, and then I won’t have to.”

Her voice so commanding made his heart flutter. He squeezed her tightly. Arguing or trying to be clever would get him nowhere. His stubborn will was drowning in a sea of anguishing lust in his stomach, and he hardly had the energy to care anymore, his pride drowning right along with it.

“Please Yen…” he nearly whined. “I want to taste you.” 

She reached down and stroked his damp hair away from his temples tenderly, letting her hand trail down his head before slowly grabbing a fistful of hair near the base of his neck. He felt her gently yet firmly pulling him toward her, his neck weak and compliant under her grip as he leaned up, burying deep, tenacious kisses into the black fabric. They were already so damp and tasted so sweet under the flat of his tongue as he ran it up the length of her pussy, stiffening the tip of his tongue as it passed over her clit. 

“ _Mmm,_ that’s good, Geralt,” she whispered, nearly losing her domineering edge for a moment as she basked in the expertise of his mouth.

She shuddered deliciously as he buried his face between her legs. Though she loved tormenting him more than anything else, she also couldn’t wait for him any longer. Though he didn’t always realize it, she knew that his skills extended far beyond swinging a sword, his dexterity manifesting other parts of his body besides his arms, a fact she was reminded of as his tongue adeptly worked its way around her most sensitive points with incredible ease.

His hands slid upward, firmly gripping the waistband of her underwear before ripping them clean off and tossing them aside. Ordinarily, Yen would have been mad, but as soon as she felt the sweet sensation of his tongue on her bare clit, she couldn’t think about anything else. He gently circled it, sending a shiver up her spine as she tightened her grip on his hair. 

“Does that taste good?” she purred.

Geralt couldn’t answer, his whine simply muffled as he continued to lap at her, dragging his stiffened tongue back and forth along her entrance, ever so slightly dipping it inside.

Yen wasn’t sure she could hold herself upright if he kept up like that. Her grip on the bed frame was already tight, and she was positive she’d snap it if she squeezed it any farther. But _gods_ , it was so good to watch him lose himself in it. And he was so fucking good at it. She wasn’t sure she could bring herself to make him stop, and even if she could, she didn’t think she had time. As he expertly flicked her clit with his tongue, she could feel the warm swell of orgasm rising in her stomach, her heart racing as it filled her chest, making her dizzy. She squeezed her eyes shut, her eyebrows knit together as her head fell back, clenching her jaw to avoid being _too_ noisy, though all she wanted to do was scream.

“ _Nnng… gods, Geralt,”_ she breathed. “I’m… I’m--”

She didn’t have the energy to finish her thought, stiffening, her body wracked with shudders as Geralt’s tongue pushed her into the wave of orgasm. He grabbed her tightly, whining as he felt her shake in his hands, continuing to mercilessly lap at her through her spasms, even as she began to relax a bit more.

“Geralt, _please_ ,” she gasped, trying desperately to get away from him.

He grinned evilly, his strong arms refusing to let her go as he worked his tongue across her overly-sensitive clit, her trembling body unable to escape his grasp, no matter how much she pushed at him. When he finally let her go after one final cruel pass of his tongue, she clambored away from him, panting, trying to regain her breath as she sensation evaporated from her body.

“You’re mean,” she said, still regaining herself.

He shrugged. “Sorry, Yen, I’m just trying to do my due diligence.”

He climbed toward her playfully, caressing her leg, causing her to scoot back until she was on the edge of the bed. “I just want to make you feel good, Yen,” he teased, a tinge of joking sarcasm in his voice.

Yen shook her head. “You’re too much. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He climbed on top of her, kissing along her jaw, running his fingers through her hair. “You were thinking, ‘Gods, that’s a handsome man. Wouldn’t I love to get a piece of that…’ Am I close?”

She laughed, quickly slipping out from underneath him to crouch just in front of him. “Mmm, not exactly. More like, ‘Oh, look at how lonely he looks. Maybe the touch of a beautiful woman will set him right.’ “

She lovingly cupped his jaw, his eyebrow raising skeptically.

“ _Har, har, har,_ Yen. You are the funniest woman I’ve ever met,” he said dryly, though not entirely antagonistic. “Vengerberg really lost a prize when you left.”

She put her hands on his shoulders, lovingly pushing him backward until he was comfortable back on the bed, hair dripping onto the pillows. She ran her fingers through it, still damp. Geralt tracked her eyes, seeming slightly annoyed, surveying the growing water spots beneath his head.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned.

She muttered a few words under her breath, her fingers making a quick maneuver in the air that Geralt didn’t quite catch, unaware that anything was happening until he suddenly felt tickled all over, jerking slightly as he saw all of the droplets of water still on him float off his skin and out of his hair. The unsettling feeling went away quickly when all of the water floated briefly above him, which Yennefer quickly flicked across the room, splashing back into the tub. He reached up and touched his now completely dry hair, marvelling at the feeling.

“Nothing anymore,” Yen finally replied. “And I know you jest, but Vengerberg truly lost a gem.”

She crawled atop him, straddling his leg, letting her hand wander down to his groin, lightly stroking up the length of the underside of his erection with a single finger. A low, whining growl escaped Geralt’s throat, his back arching against the bed, one fist gripping the pillow under his head, the other twisted in the sheets at his side.

“I’d say they lost the whole damn treasure trove,” he groaned.

Yen smiled. “That’s more like it. I’m glad you’re finally starting to see things my way, Geralt.”

She continued to tease along the length of his cock with her fingers as she leaned in to kiss his throat. She relished feeling his pulse quicken under her touch as she planted light kisses in the most sensitive parts of his neck, letting her free hand entwine itself in his soft hair. 

He couldn’t help himself, letting his head push back into the pillow, opening himself up even more to her. His chest burned bright red with blush, and he hoped desperately that she didn’t notice. She was an expert at pushing his buttons and knew exactly how to elicit this reaction from him, and as much as he wanted her to do whatever she felt like to him, he wished to maintain at least a little bit of dignity. After all, he could control most aspects of his physiology, but if he couldn’t control this, then what good was it all? In the end, all he wanted was to maintain at least a facade of control. But the more Yennefer toyed with him, the less control he seemed to have.

“Gods, Geralt, you must want this badly…” Yen purred in his ear, sending chills down his body. “You’re so hard already… Do you like it when I tease you?” she asked, lightening her touch even more to a near tickle.

“ _Mmm… yes…_ ” he groaned. 

Yen sat back just a bit, lovingly caressed down his side, running her fingers across the articulation of his muscles. She let her other hand venture to the base of his shaft, firmly squeezing his balls. He grunted, unable to stop himself from arching into her touch. He needed it so badly he could feel it from his fingers to his toes. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Do you want me to touch you for real?”

“ _Yes…”_

“I want to. But I have a better idea… Will you be good and trust me?”

His heart jumped, his brain racing a hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out where she could possibly be going with this. Unfortunately, his blood was too preoccupied elsewhere to let his brain function enough to come to any conclusions. But at the same time, he was sure that he’d let her do anything to him as long as she’d let him cum soon. 

“Of course,” he whispered.

She smiled, placing her hands lovingly on his cheeks, giving his beard a light stroke before gently kissing his forehead.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered. 

Obediently, he did so. He felt her lean over him, smelling her perfume only inches from his face. He leaned up, playfully kissing what he determined was her stomach, causing her to giggle lightly. He was so distracted by the sweet sound of her laugh that he didn’t even notice the distinctive metallic clicking above his head. 

Yen sat back, tenderly interlacing her fingers with his, raising his arms steadily above his head again. He smiled.

“You know, Yen, you can tell me to keep my arms up all you want, but you know you’re too irresistible not to touch.”

“That’s quite alright, Geralt. I wasn’t planning on giving you the option,” she laughed, clicking the metal shackle around his wrist, binding him to the bedpost above his head. 

His eyes snapped open, drawn to his bound arm as she secured his other arm. He tested the strength of the shackles, inquisitively pulling on them to see just how securely they were fastened.

The answer, in his opinion, was “very.”

He raised his eyebrow, grinning devilishly. “How long have you been waiting to use these?”

She smirked. “Long enough. But there’s something else I’ve been waiting even longer to use that I think you’re going to like.”

He cocked his head inquiringly. He knew there was no point in asking, since she’d show him soon enough, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander, trying to anticipate what it could possibly be.

Knowing full well he was wracked with anticipation, Yen climbed off him, digging through a drawer next to the bed as Geralt watched her like a hawk. He was surprised to see her pull out a long piece of black fabric.

He was even more surprised when she fastened it around his head, over his eyes, tying it securely as soon as she was sure he couldn’t peek out above or beneath it. Completely blind, Geralt squirmed a bit, relying uncomfortably heavily on his hearing to discern what was happening.

“Alright, you’re not going to just leave me here, are you?” he inquired.

She scoffed. “Of course not. Why would I ever do that?”

He wriggled uncomfortably, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. “I don’t know… Just a feeling.”

“Don’t worry Geralt, I’ll just be right over here for a moment.”

He grumbled quietly to himself, feeling uneasy. He could still hear her bare feet padding along the floor, though, with every passing moment feeling his anxiety replaced gradually by curiosity. He could hear her fiddling with something, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. He tried, listening to the subtle, occasional clicking of metal, and maybe the rustling of some sort of heavy fabric? His inability to determine the source of the sound frustrated him more and more, but that wouldn’t deter him from enjoying himself. He impatiently waited for her, the feeling of his hard cock occasionally bumping his stomach slowly driving him insane.

After what seemed like forever, he felt Yen climb back on the bed, leaning over him once again to dig around in the nightstand by the bed. He tried to look, but couldn’t maneuver the fabric in the right way that would allow him to see through a crack.

“I see that, Geralt. Quit trying to peek.”

He huffed petulantly.

“If you’d prefer, I can blind you with magic instead,” she jabbed.

Oddly enough, he remained quiet this time. There was a moment of quiet as Yen waited for his potential smartass response before Geralt heard the subtle pop of a cork pulled from a bottle. Now _that_ was a sound he was familiar with. Before he could register any other noise, Yen had quickly set the bottle on the nightstand and settled in below him. He shuddered as she took hold of him, more firmly this time, stroking him for real. His cock was alight, screaming with pleasure. He wasn’t sure how, but with a single touch, she had him completely entranced, ready to explode despite his enormous self-control and excessive stamina. 

“You’ve been so good and patient, Geralt,” she nearly whispered, lavishing him with her hand. “Lift your hips for me.”

He did just so, lifting his hips off the bed, feeling her place a thick pillow underneath him, propping his lower half up almost more than he cared for.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked, placing her free hand lovingly on his thigh, rubbing tender circles with her thumb.

Despite his face turning bright red, feeling obscenely exposed, he nodded his head. She accepted that, her hand wandering slowly up his leg, bypassing his dick, much to Geralt’s surprise. He shuddered as she teased her fingers along his perineum, inexplicably excited. She felt him twitch again as she began to gently run her fingers around his opening, only just noticing the oily slickness covering them. He gritted his teeth, unwilling to admit how good it felt, electricity exploding in his gut.

“ _Nnng, Yen, what are you--”_

“Relax, Geralt. You trust me, right?” she asked, her voice like soothing velvet.

“Yeah…” he replied with only minimal hesitation.

“Then just let me do this for you,” she said, pressing even more firmly at his entrance.

He tensed as she eased one finger in, his breath quickening.

“Geralt, just relax,” she whispered, working it in just a bit deeper. 

He did his best, but it felt so goddamn good he could hardly relax. Warm, sensual heat filled his stomach, intensifying with each slow movement of her finger as she worked it in and out of him. 

“ _Aah… fuck, Yen,”_ he sputtered, wriggling his hips ever so slightly as the intensity of her motion increased.

She steadied him with a firm hand placed just below his stomach, taking a break from stroking him for a moment.

“Does that feel good, Geralt?”

“ _Yeah…”_ he breathed. 

And it did. Had she not been so good at pacing herself perfectly to keep him on the edge, he’d have cum already. She was a pro at this, it seemed. She gripped his hip, rubbing her little circles in his skin again, sending warm shivers up his spine, keeping him comfortable as she worked a second slick finger into his ass. His breathing hitched at the intrusion. It felt so good--he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back.

Satisfied with how easily she’d been able to get the second finger in, she heartlessly pulled both her fingers out after only a few moments, eliciting a fractious whine from Geralt. It was quickly replaced with something much bigger--something cold and unfamiliar. Geralt flinched as he felt it pushing on his opening, a much more pronounced invasion than her fingers. It didn’t hurt, but at first, it was a bit uncomfortable. Once again, he found himself squirming as he adjusted to the pressure, pulling on the shackles.

Yen could see him wince slightly, slowing down her movement just a bit, enough to hopefully make him comfortable again. She allowed him a bit of room to readjust himself, letting him fix his hip position a little. When he’d settled down a bit, she started in again, little by little.

He could feel himself relax a bit more after fixing his position, gripping the top corner of the pillow with his hands, just barely within his reach. He took a deep breath as he felt her stop moving, her hips pressed up against him. Finally, in that moment, he realized.

“Yen, is that--”

Without hesitation, she pulled the blindfold off of him. He traced the harness around her waist to the base of what appeared to be a large, metal phallus buried deeply in his ass. The sight was more than exquisite, sending a new wave of blood rushing to his cock, aching to be touched again. 

“Yen…” he moaned.

“What is it? Does it hurt? Are you comfortable?” she asked.

“No, it’s not that…”

“Then what is it?”

“Please, Yen… _Please fuck me_ ,” he begged. 

She grinned, taking hold of his cock again, stroking him as she pulled her hips back, easing herself in and out slowly as she figured out the rhythm.

Geralt thought he’d pass out from the sheer volume of pleasure, his heart ready to burst out of his chest as he watched Yen fuck him more and more roughly with the smooth strap-on, rubbing his cock furiously, letting her thumb gently flick over the tip at the end of each stroke. His wrists strained against the shackles, the fullness driving him quickly to the brink of orgasm. Immediately sensing this, Yen backed off just a bit, slowing her pace to toy with him.

“ _Gods,_ Geralt, you look so good with my toy in you,” she breathed. 

Geralt whimpered beneath her, feeling absolutely helpless to defy his noisy baser instincts. Her slow in pace didn’t matter. It almost felt _better_. It felt so good inside him that he could feel his eyes watering. He couldn’t even think about the way he looked. It was probably ridiculous, but he was too fucking horny to care. Yen was expertly pumping his ass and his head swirled with explosions of pleasure like a thunderstorm. He could feel himself growing harder in her hand, his mind going blank.

“ _Gods, yes, Yen. I’m gonna--”_

 _“_ I know, Geralt,” she moaned. “ _Fuck, I want you to cum for me_.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His vision blurred as the hot exhilaration overtook his body, pulling tightly on the shackles, his whole body shaking as Yen mercilessly stroked in and out of him while relentlessly milking every last drop of cum out of him, adding to the mess he’d already created on his own stomach.

As much as she wanted to continue to play with him, she was finally realizing how taxing Geralt’s usual role was, feeling a flimsy aching in her hips and lower back. Geralt winced as she pulled her toy from him, taking a moment to get used to the emptiness again. Yen took one last look at him as he lay on the bed, panting, covered in his own seed, cheeks burning bright red. She knew she’d be revisiting that image quite frequently in her private time.

Graciously, she undid the shackles, allowing him to rub his undoubtedly sore wrists. He propped himself up on his elbow, watching Yen as she undid the contraption and got back into her regular underwear.

“So you’ve had that plan for a while, hmm?” he inquired.

“More or less,” she said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He continued watching her, feeling a bit surprised when she didn’t stop dressing at the underwear, going on to grab a shirt and pants, much nicer than what she’d need for lounging in bed.

“You going out?” he asked.

“Not exactly. Just going to go out to the yard and read for a bit. Been a minute since I’ve had some quiet time with a book.”

“Not even a hug?”

She laughed. “I’d love to, but as much as I hate to say it, you need a bath.”

She made way for the stairs, grabbing her book off the desk on her way. “I love you, Geralt.”

“Mhmm. I love you too,” he grumbled as she went down the stairs.

Geralt groaned, laying back down in frustration, shaking his head as she walked out the door.

 _Same old Yen_ , he thought, unsure of what he expected. _Some things just never change._

**Author's Note:**

> I’m now on Twitter! Follow me at @ficnewtons for art and story updates :)


End file.
